Heaven is a place on Earth

If you were to take my school and inject it with steroids, you would have the University of Florida. Seating 95,000 in the Swamp and filled with tailgating hotties and other sundress clad hotties using motorized scooters for transportation, this place was pretty much perfect.

Arriving early on Friday and making my presence felt, I took a cab ride to campus. Sporting an ECU backpack that seemed to be met with either blank stares or laughs, I attempted to makes the most of my outsider status. Find hot girls, cower in fear, maintain confidence/courage to ask about the nightlife. So, I did. True to my word I asked 0 guys. The responses were typical. “Oh, I don’t know if I’m the right person to ask for that. My friend Marisa, would be like, way better.” Yeah, don’t think I’m gonna meet her but I could be wrong. I gladly walked what I’m sure to be 2+ miles in the Florida sun doing my best to blend in as a grad? student or someone who still has a life worth living.

The only thing amiss was capturing all of the footage with a gopro strapped to my noggin which I seriously considered only to find out gopro’s only last an hour and a half.

Before even going out Friday night, the party was in full swing. Summoned to a life of solitude, eating pizza and drinking screwdrivers in the company of no one it was nice to have my friends finally show up. That commenced more screwdriver-drinking (no easy way to say that, huh?), music and the occasional Instagram-stalking between bouts of laughter. This proved fruitful during the three best friends anyone could have catching up. After one unnamed suspect liked a butt pic of a UF undergrad that I didn’t know or follow, the floodgates were opened. She reciprocated by liking a picture I had put up of Ben Hill Griffin Stadium during my jaunt around campus. This quickly turned into a follow on my part because the girl’s a 9.8 no questions asked. She liked another picture from later that night of the 3 of us, and yeah, I’m in love ok? Distance won’t hinder what we have.

After a Friday night between Tall Paul’s (weak) and Cantina (not weak, my choice) and various “Purple! Gold!” chants we were ready to get back and pass out before gameday. Jk we got in a cab with two spicy Latinas that we couldn’t have been talking to for more than 5 minutes. Hardly knowing our names, they hopped in and before we knew it, hopped out. Mid car ride “wait, shouldn’t we like not be doing this? Aren’t you supposed to not get in cars with strangers?” Says the girl in front of 3 guys and a very nice cab driver who chauffeured us around all weekend. What’s up Keina. We laughed about it later that night.

The campus, bars and stadium(s) in addition to frats/sororities are all within striking distance of each other. Similar to many big southern schools, mine included, many students opt for off-campus housing for binge drinking and pool partying (gross, right?) fairly early on. This was no different and those apartments were…. Somewhere. I only saw one big complex. The assumption is they’re a drive or at least scooter’s putt away. Unlike many other big schools however (USC comes to mind, no not the California one) virtually everything is walkable. After the game everyone pours out of Ben Hill Griffin Stadium and into the various bars across the street in Midtown, not downtown, don’t ask me why.

There you can find overpriced shitty beers (they jack up the prices on game weekends), incredibly hot girls trying a little too hard to impress (we get it you’re hot… No don’t stop being hot, just–whatever). Among other things you’ll find, well a shitload of people in purple getting drunk but that’s specific to that weekend. Oh, and lots of white people! #college #privilegedyouth

Deep in enemy territory…


Tebowing still alive and well…


Edit: Gameday comments directed at our group by packs of hot girls included “You can’t wear those colors” and “he’s hot” (referring to me, duh). Which was surprising, considering UF girls don’t roam in packs like they do at my alma mater and were far more often found navigating the Gainesville terrain alone, without beer(?); your independence is attractive.

Update: The cause of the lack of females at our hotel that night –0– can be attributed to one friend, who will remain nameless, being “hangry”. This is an individual known to eat 7-11 meals per day on Spring Break in the Bahamas not so long ago. After much complaining for “real food” we tried unsuccessfully to name places this individual could gain access to “real food.” According to him (drunk version of course) pizza, tacos, and whatever else we named didn’t fall into that category. The girls quickly grew weary of this food business, and nearly jumped out of a moving car. Damn your metabolism.

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